


Decent

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Antares Lavellan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8566879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: Prompt fill. Dorian washes Lavellan's hair and reflects on the strange nature of his paramour.





	

“I don’t see how you manage to get this filthy all the time.”

Dorian’s fussing continues but Lavellan can’t hear him; not with the gentle scratching at his scalp the other man is doing. He lulls his head back into Dorian’s hands, humming contently, and barely hears the loud sigh that follows.

“Mm, what?” Antares asks, eyes still shut.

“I found. A stick.”

The Inquisitor laughs–giggles more like–and listens to Dorian’s grumbling as he untangles the offending piece of plant life and tosses it out of the bath. That handled and he’s back to working the soap into his hair.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, amatus.” Dorian warns, wiping the suds off Antares’ shoulder before pressing a kiss to it. “Napping in the bath has drowned lesser men than yourself.”

“You treat me so good, vhenan.”

The mage makes a flustered noise, one that tells Lavellan beyond the shadow of a doubt he’s pink in the face, and nudges him in the back. Antares responds dramatically, flopping over the side of the tub and peering back at him sulkily.

“Rinse your hair, you disaster.” Dorian huffs and fans at his face, as if trying to pass the blush off as overheating in the warm water.

Antares groans but obliges, rinsing the shampoo out while Dorian leans back and just watches. Seemingly recovered, he looks charmed when Antares pops back up with his damp hair in his face.

“You know, if the people could see the great Inquisitor like I do maybe there wouldn’t be all these claims of holiness.”

“Oh Dorian,” Lavellan says with a smirk, sliding forward until his nose bumps against the other man’s. “if they could see me like you do, you’d get jealous.”

The mage waves a hand in the air lazily. “Only a little.” he says, and his other hand raises out of the water to take hold of Antares’ chin. “I still get to see them first, at least.”

“But of course; you’d have to approve it. Make sure nothing the public gets to see is too _indecent_.” Antares says with a chuckle and presses a kiss to the corner of Dorian’s lips.

Dorian moves Antares by the chin, steals himself a proper kiss, and then smirks at him. “Well, if that’s the rules.” he hums, running his thumb over Lavellan’s lower lip. “Not much of anything would get past.”

Anatres leans back, feigning offence. “I can’t be that bad.”

“You had a stick in your hair.”

Antares laughs. “Just one!”

“Well,” Dorian replies, chuckling faintly. “small victories.”


End file.
